


Threnodia- in memory of Demigods

by helissa



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Demigods parents, F/M, M/M, Mortal parents, Sad, Slice of Life, gods take bad news, little angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helissa/pseuds/helissa
Summary: Demigods are likely to often die young.Their immortal parents can feel it, but… what happens with the mortals?/set in the first serie/
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Threnodia- in memory of Demigods

**Threnodia:**  
 **In memory of Demigods**  
\---

**Silena, daughter of Aphrodite  
Mr. Beauregard**

“ _«You want a bonbon?» Silena asked. «My dad sent them. He thought- he thought they might cheer me up»._  
 _«Are they any good?» I asked._  
 _She shook her head. «They taste like cardboard»_ ”  
\--“The Last Olympian”, chapter Four

Timothy Beauregard was quite known in that little lake town on Minnesota.  
Not really for his appearance, as he was tiny, almost minuscule, with precise curly hair and a pair of glasses always placed in the middle of his long, upturned nose. By adding his eternal clothes made of a jacket, a shirt and a tie, he seemed a sort of mouse escaped from who knows what cartoon. But people adore him, and it was nearly impossible to do otherwise: as well as being what the Ancient Greeks would have called “polutropon” (which is a man of almost infinite talents and resources), everything out of his mouth turned into poetry.   
Few sentences, a greeting or maybe some news about his day were enough to let people dreaming, lulled by what he narrated. Even the most hot-headed bikers, when entered his chocolate shop, went out not with the cash from the register, but with a very big amount of stories stuck in the helmets and with a lilac bag full of bonbons.

Timothy was like that. His stories narrated the world. Because, moreover, it was the world, in its totally fulness, that he had lived. He was born in Canada, of French origin, in a big city; then he had moved to study Law in the States and in the long range between the leaving studies and his daughter’s birth he had travelled here and there, first thanks to his scholarships and then to his own words. He had been a lawyer in London, a bookkeeper in Oslo, then he was in India, writing travel reports on a blog, after that, in a sprint in Peru, to learn about the jungles; and then Spain and Italy, learning cooking’s secrets, and Cina, as an English teacher, and Russia, in the entourage of a diplomatic, and France, studying Art…  
Seeing that mouse’s snout, no one would have ever tell. And no one, on the other hand, would have ever connected him to Silena. She was such a beautiful girl that half of her charm would have been enough to mushroom chit-chats in the town. It was common belief that she had climbed out of one of her dad’s fairy tales: it was like her appearance could adapt to the stories’ settings.

As Mr. Beauregard had changed so often country and occupation, so Silena seemed to change her physical appearance with a ease that made boys and girls crazy. One day, she could have blue eyes and golden hair but then, after her return from the summer camp she went every year, her hair could have become darken, reddish or even totally black. You don’t see everywhere tints so impeccable. Furthermore, she was as tall and beautiful as Timothy was short and mouse looking. The only thing they seemed to have in common was the elegant taste.

The towns’ ladies thought it was really for the town’s best that Silena, no matter how sweet and nice she could be, wasn’t so often at her father’s shop. Their kids already arrived home late thanks to Mr. Beauregard’s fairy tales and stories: if his daughter was at the chocolate shop, they would have returned maybe at evening close of the shop- hoping in some good luck.

But Timothy seemed not to worry too much about his little daughter’s awkward beauty- beauty that must have been inherited by the girl’s mother. Mr. Beauregard, in his tales made by thousands of fragrant valleys, by skies shaped of rainbows and smile-waving seas, had never ever said a single word about his daughter’s beauty and above all about the mysterious woman with he had had Silena.

That Minnesota town was a quiet place, where everyone knew each other and where every Sunday there was the church to attend all together, no matter what. That implied there was the strong and bare necessity to gossip about everything new, uncommon and vaguely strange or suspicious.

Mister Timothy Beauregard had the absolute record: he was literally livened up the chats since he had arrived there some years before. The mystery about his daughter’s mother was one of the best topic to bring out when the town’s daily news and gossips came to finish. The results had leaded to so many stories about Silena’s origin to compete to the number of Mr. Beauregard’s fairy tales. Could Silena’s mother have been a lady as marvellous as cruel and have run away with a lover? And if so, how could she have left a such… of many talents man? A fountain of fairy tales and chocolate like him? No, maybe it was more like she was dead, in childbirth, in an accident, in a trip… Or maybe, has she asked for a divorce? Or maybe… or maybe what?

Despite being practically impossible to not be aware of all the abundant and stuffed with fantasy chats that Silena tended to catalyse with her mere presence in their little town, Mr. Timorthy didn’t seem worried about it at all. He accepted with a smile- and sometimes with a sigh- the frequent questions and then, then he answered with colourful paradise of stories, the more explosive his head was able to proves. Wonderful stories, linked to his Silena as a chocolate cube could be with a sombrero. Not that Timothy had never thought about doing some sombrero-shapes chocolate, of course.

But point was that Mr. Timothy actually tended to really worry, when he was leaded to think about little Silena’s mother. Telling stories while preparing or selling chocolate was a thing, while living in full those stories, thinking about what Silena was currently doing at the Halfblood Camp… well, that was a totally different matter.  
It had to be really fantastic, running and training with and between centaurs, nymphs, satyrs and other creatures like those, but it was a different matter, a real different matter compared to telling stories in which he was on the control. Really. Just a real and tangible different matter.

He had travelled the globe so much and for so long to arrive at feeling a world’s citizen, part of every country and every reality: but he always was cut away, excluded, by that gods’ and heroes’ world. And that meant not be able to get an idea about what his little Silena was living and feeling.  
Mr. Timothy was quite sure that was something he had in common with most of the teenagers’ parents. There was something that was exclusively part of Silena’s world and Silena’s life, as a teen and as a demigod. It was her and their world, the world of demigods, the world of hyperactive and powerful teens- but… but Silena was his daughter, his little one. He desperately wanted to reach her world, to show her he understood, he was there, if she needed. He knew he would never be able to be part of that reality and he didn’t expect to do so: he only wanted she knew he was there, that her dad was near to her.  
But at the same time, well, Halfblood Camp stayed a long land made of strawberries’ fields under his eyes.  
He remembered as it was yesterday that old man smelling like rancid grass that had followed them, during a trip when Silena was six years old. He had immediately trusted the “cyclop” definition a bold young man, with little horns on the head, had kindly offered them. There were monsters as those, there, in that world, and as far as he had travelled and studied and hurt his brain to understand, it was always difficult for him to recognize them. And Timothy knew, in that exact moment, there was a war, in the gods’, demigods’ and monsters’ world, and, well. Wars. Wars stayed always the same, horrid in all the world and in all the worlds.

Only a week before, poor Charlie had passed away: he was a silent little guy, of few words but good as gold- almost good as a brioche. Little Silena had recently started to date him, and, after having heard of Charles for almost three years, Timothy had even met him, last time Silena had returned home.  
His poor, little, child loved him so much and that big guy returned the affection with such a shyness and a kindness you wouldn’t often have expected in someone built like a rugby player. They were so in love, they shared a carefree sentiment, sweet and pure that could only help their worlds.  
When he had died, in a sort of explosion, Silena had called Timothy on the mobile phone- despite all the danger those electronic devices could cause to demigods. She had called into tears, crying so desperately that Timothy had feared she could have died there, for the pain. Then they had been an hour on a Iris’s service, and he… he had tried, tried to comfort her as he could. He had promised her that as soon as possible they would have done something together, to remember Charlie. That poor, poor, child.  
Timothy had felt so horrible for him and for little Silena he hadn’t be able to process a decent story for all the night- and then he had started to cook, in a frenetic and nervous way. He had sent Silena right the day after a box full of cakes and chocolate, with also a supply of his new, experimental, bonbons.  
After all, he had come in touch with baking after had discovered who really was that splendid woman he had met in France and with who he had had Silena. And, of course that wasn’t exactly the same thing, but the basics were similar. A love that couldn’t exist- due an eternal life or due… well, an horrible death.  
He really hoped that all those cakes could help a little his little Silena. He had even suggested her to go there, to take her away from the Camp, but her crying had increased so much he had realized that wasn’t at all a great idea.

And so, here he was, in his chocolate shops’ kitchen, messing about a dozen of donuts, without even the slightest story to tell whatever client. He sighed, sniffing and cleaning his hands on the specific towel, all unaware of the town’s chats’ reasons has just arrived in front of the shop’s window.  
The door opened sweetly and the wind chimes’ mild jingle hanging at the handle drew his perplexed attention: he was pretty sure he hadn’t opened yet, that morning.  
His jaw almost fell when he saw, in the middle of the shop, that woman- or that goddess.

Aphrodite was just a few steps from Timothy, wonderful as she always was, in a flowing green dress that perfectly matched her eyes. He remembered long time ago (for him, and not so much for her), she had told him every human tended to perceive her in a different way, following their beauty ideals- even variable from moment to moment. But for him, Aphrodite would always be a thirty years old woman, with wavy, hazeler than hazelnut hair, with eyes greener than mint. Mint’s perfume, wrapped around something wiht roses and chocolate, was fulling so much the shop that Timothy wanted no more than asked her a pinch of that essence- he desperately wanted to share it with Silena and maybe also in his own chocolate. In that way, the smile was borning in him would born in every person of the world, with a perfume of that kind. Wars would probably will be no more.

«A- Aphrodite» he said, with a clumsy half bow. His voice was trembling a little and he had to fix his glasses, that seemed to slip again and again on the tip of his nose.  
«Hi, Timothy» the goddess answered. She looked around, curious. «I see your good taste is still fantastic. Even only those menus up there are so good».  
«One does what he can». He shriveled with modesty, but it had been years since when he had felt so proud. «I make only sure people can feel my touch, you know. I’ve even put some barriers and protections, for my- for our Silena. She had helped me, you know. Oh, she’s so good, and kind!»  
Something in Aphrodite was darkening as she had even lowered a little her gaze, but Timothy was completely taken away by excitement. He finally had someone to talk about his little one without judgements or worries! And he was again in a room with beauty itself! So, he just didn’t realize.  
«She really looks a lot like you. And I’m sure she will have success in whatever she’ll choose to do! But, I have to confess, I’m kind of worry, to be honest… Only a week ago her boyfriend, a good and great lad, has passed away. But… but you know it already, don’t you?». He smiled. «My, I always forget how many things you gods know: so much knowledge! And I think I must have forgotten also good manners: can I offer you some chocolate?»  
Even if it was particulary difficult giving the back to someone as Aphrodite, he dared to do so, searching to reach some of the suppliest shop’s packs. «Or maybe, if you wish, I could tell you some of my stories. I’m sure I have some you’ve never heard» he said, climbing the little stepladder behing the counter and taking the best chocolate he had done in those days.  
«Aww, I simply love your stories!» Aphrodite twittered. Her voice was enough powerful to bring happiness in all the world. «It’s with them that you won me!»

When Timothy turned to her from the stepladder, she winked at him: he nearly fell down on the ground.  
One he managed to touch safely the floor, though… he started to feel something strange, almost something you can sense in the air, entering in your own lungs. It would be almost impossible not see the sadness’ shape that was floating in the goddess’ eyes- eyes that now were similar to mint hit by the rain’s drops. But most part of Mr. Timothy’s soul was still steadily caught by the love- and by the fierce purpose of making the world best sweetness’ combination ever.  
So, in that moment, neither Aphrodite’s cautious voice could help in shaking him a little. «Choco-Tim… do you know what happened yesterday in Manhattan?»  
Timothy trembled for joy hearing the goddess calling him with that little, sweet, nickname. «Ah, yes, my dear, I’ve just seen the news. A very bad storm, wasn’t it?»  
«Actually… it was not a storm. And neither some other completely normal or natural phenomenon. It was a battle, a very, very, violent battle, against Kronos’ forces».  
The last pieces of chocolate slipped on the saucer in front of the goddess, making the porcelain tinkling.

«Silena… Silena was involved and she… and she…»

The goddess was no able to finish the sentence.  
The saucer crashed on the ground with a very loud thud. Chocolate and porcelain flew everywhere, expecially around the counter. Aphrodite did nothing, other than shelter behind a fine handkerchief: there were things even a goddess couldn’t help.  
When she finally was able to look up at Timothy’s eyes, she found them full of unstoppable tears.

  
*******

“Belle Silena” chocolate shop suddedly closed, in that August week.  
The already flourishing chats about the nice Mr. Beauregard raised vertiginously, for this as for the mysteriously disappearance of the said mister. Many linked the situation to that too beautiful daughter, or to her mother- who someone swore had glimpsed around the shop.

Fact was that no one knew anything about Mr. Timothy Beauregard, town’s “polutropon” man. And even if not all town’s people actually missed his not so great bonbons (it was common belief they must have been made with cardboard), the end of his stories surely took something out of the community.  
They were so missed that it was a great surprise when someone, years later, firmly claimed to have read similar fairy tales, with a style that recalled his words and his imagination. Thousands of fragrant valleys, by skies shaped of rainbows and smile-waving seas.

Besides, if they had observed the book with more attention, they could have seen the author’s name, Elleb Anelis, was even too much similar to the name of that old chocolate shop- that was now a laundromat.  
And, if that was not enough, people as a certain goddess would have surely recognized the inscription:

  
_“To my demigoddess child, in order that she would stay immortal, as is in my heart"_

**Author's Note:**

> This story was rotting in my archive for immemorial times.  
> Really, I think even the title and the general idea got in them a quite generous dust’s quantity. Look where the quarantine can lead us, eh?  
> Anyway, let’s talk a little about the story: the title is the English translation of a type of an Ancient Greek funeral song.  
> And I’ve really reassessed Silena. First time I’ve read the serie, I was no older than Percy himself in the first book and I was so taken away from the events to merely look at the single characters and at their personality or stories… but Silena. Gosh, little Silena. She’s a Hero, with (silent but) capital “H”. Her role as Luke’s spy really gives us something very interesting in a psychologist way and helps to bring more deepness in her character- because, let us be honest. Exploring characters’ personality isn’t really Uncle Rick’s strong point. But in this case, well, he’s done a very good job.  
> Moving on, I really hope the story is not too dated: Percy Jackson and the Olympians’ last book was published in 2009- 2012, if we consider my country. And so I’m not sure about someone out there that remembers the original stories and adventures, that are actually the ones I’m more affectionate. At the same time, well, the Disney serie is starting guys: who knows what’s gonna happen!  
> Cutting the chatter, Threnodia will be an one-shots’ collection. Almost all of them are already ready, only to be translated (oh my gosh it’s still lot of work haha). They’ll be by the mortal parents’ point of view, they’ll be about six characters taken from the first series’ books, and not in a chronological order.  
> I think it’s all. I accept suggestions for eventually expand the story- if you're shy, you can tell me [here](https://tellonym.me/noxie)!  
> If you’ve got nothing to do and you’re with a great quality connession (mine sucks), I recommed y’all to give a look to some “The Lighting Thief” musical animatics, as [this one](https://youtu.be/3jvy5LGjSbc). They’re so good, folks!  
> Here, helissa over and out! 
> 
> See ya,  
> \- hel


End file.
